"Merciful Heavens, the cold."
Trying to not look like I was shivering I approached my destination. The almost impossible scent of the place came to me well before I got to the gate.
Roses? More a spring or summer smell than one for the depths of winter.
The iron gate, flanked with its columns of white stone, was cold under my hand. I looked at the vines that trail off down either side, their flowers long gone, their leaves hidden in frost; fairly cover the whole of the wall with their thorny mass.
"Would that it was spring," I said under my breath. My words were a foggy mist before my eyes as I neared the door.
The morning's cold, bitter winds still tore at my clothes, biting into me when it blew my coat open. The wet cobblestones had long since stripped my feet of any warmth. My button-top boots, worn more for appearance than warmth, had allowed the cold, muddy slush from the street in far too easily. Still, I walked on. Let there be snow on the rooftops, and I would have walked on. The horror and embarrassment of that morning gave me the strength, terror of the scandal waiting to be born spurred me on. Knowing that even then my beloved husband was being held prisoner gave me the will to see myself to journey's end.
My cold fingers closed around the little brass pull. I heard the bell ringing inside. Just as I was about to give a second pull, the door opened.
"Oh lordy, ma'am." Her eyes went from my face to my feet, taking in the good quality cloth, the cut and style of my coat. "What are you out upon such a day for? Your clothes are near soaked from the snow. Come inside before you catch your death."
Smiling with gratitude, I stepped in through the door and past the saucy, pert woman in the black maid's uniform. The maid's deference was so very heartwarming after the morning I had been having. The rudeness... no... absolute brutishness of the bailiffs!
"Caught me in the middle of my dusting, you did, ma'am. Otherwise, you might have had to stand out there for a goodly while. Everyone's off getting party supplies gathered for tonight, don't you know? Come in here by the fire. I take it you are needing to speak to Milady?"
The heat from the fire was almost more than my chilled skin could take. I drank it in, trying to not shudder luxuriously. With a sigh, I turned and gave the maid a nod.
"If you please. Would you tell her Mrs. Upton, the wife of James Upton, is asking to see her." Behind my back, I held my hands out to the flames. It was a small fire in truth but to my fingers, it was almost painfully hot.
"Oh, Mrs. Upton, she told us you would probably pop round today. She said for you to join her in the Rosarium." The little brunette gave the mantelpiece a quick flip with her feather duster.
"The... what?"
Smiling, she looked at me.
"The Rosarium, ma'am. The greenhouse. Come, I'll guide your steps."
I followed her, my eyes going to her black skirt. It was far too short. I had seen the style in the travels of my youth, but I hadn't thought anything that scandalous had made its way here. Mother chastised father once when he looked upon a woman dressed so. I pushed the memories away, overcome by the shame I felt from this morning. Thoughts of the shame I have brought to our family made me almost glad that they were gone to a better place. Although, I know, if they still lived, they would have helped us.
.
"Right through those glass doors and then through the second set. Mind the thorns."
"Thank you," I said.
Ahead of me was a wall of glass, iron, and brass. Beautiful filigree-worked metal held the glass panels with strong but delicate swirls. In the center is a set of double doors, also made of glass. I went to them only to yank my hand back from the door at first touch.
The handle was burning hot!
Very hesitantly, I moved to it again, my fingers ready to pull back, I slowly touched it again. The metal was probably not as hot to warm fingers as to mine, but the cold of the day would not be chased from my fingers with so little time before a fire.
As I stepped through the opening, the scent of roses came to me again. Hesitantly, I walked to the inner doorway. This handle was if anything even warmer.
As I opened it, I stood for a second, eyes closed, and just basked in the warmth that flowed out to me.
My eyes opened to take in a riotous mélange of thousands of shades from red to pink. Then the scent, the strongest perfume, washed over me. I felt as if months had slid by, and I was standing on a June day, smelling flowers in the garden.
Even my feet started to thaw. I bend down quickly and placed my hand on the stone floor.
It was miraculously warm!
"It's a trick the Romans invented."
I stood up quickly, embarrassed at having been caught like that. I turned to look at the woman walking towards me. The light dress she wore would be far more appropriate for summer. Even as the thought came to mind, I realized that I needed to open up some of my own clothing, for I was beginning to sweat.
I undid my scarf and unbuttoned my coat to hide my sudden disquiet.
This woman was clearly not wearing stays under her dress. It was positively vulgar.
"Miss Sionly?"
"Lady Sionly, if you please," she said with a smile. "My illustrious great-grand-sire did so very little saving someone of no consequence to earn the title. The least I can do is see to its use."
"I'm sorry, my husband told me, Miss," I started to say, but she waved a set of brass shears at me.
"Don't be sorry, my dear. Least of all for the foolish mistakes of a man. Now, you are the wife of James Upton."
"Yes, my Lady. I came to..." I said.
"Oh, I know what you're here for. The bailiffs came round and fetched him this morning."
"Yes, my Lady. Just as I was putting breakfast on the table. They tapped him and took him off to a sponging-house. I have come to see if you would give him more time."
The lovely woman smiled at me sadly.
"Men. They get themselves into trouble then wish us to help get them out of it. With no thought to our dignity. Imagine if you had asked him to go beg someone you owed money to." She gave a sigh. "Come with me, my dear."
I followed her into, what I later learned, was called a terrarium. The table she leads me to must have been near the middle because I saw the glass and metal roof high above. I felt even greater warmth coming from the four great pillars that held that frost-rimed ceiling up.
At my surprised look, she smiled.
